sensed you were testing me. I dropped everything and came.”
We sit in silence. Me revisiting my memories of that day. Him revisiting his. I yawn, suddenly feeling drowsy, even though I have done nothing strenuous. I feel nicely tired and ready for sleep. This has been the most I have ever been pampered, and if I never have another moment of it in my lifetime, this will have been enough.
“Thank you, again, for another awesome day.”
“You’re welcome.”
I yawn again.
“Shall we go?” he asks, as I let out another yawn.
“Yes, we should. How long have we been here?”
“A few hours.”
It’s only when we get changed and step back into the lobby that I find out. It’s late evening.
Late evening.
We have been here for the better part of five hours.
Time slowed, then stopped, then sped up again. Being with Brad is like that. I’ve had more fun and adventure in one weekend than I’ve had in years.
I stop and give him a big, wet, sloppy thank you kiss as we reach his car. He stares into my eyes, and we exchange something, thoughts, feelings. Words aren’t needed.
I kiss him again, bringing back the memories that we had left abandoned in the tub of grape juice. The fibers in my body come alive and he responds with an urgency that is still new and surprising.
Knowing that it is late, and that we have work tomorrow, I’m about to ask him if he wants to drop me off, but he tells me to get in and then starts to drive. He has that same serious expression on his face again. The switch from light to this is so sudden that I can’t help but notice.
He is battling with something, maybe it’s something he wants to tell me, and believing this to be the case, I say nothing, but let him lead.
But as he drives and we leave the part of Chicago I’m familiar with, and we head towards the more upscale part of the city, I try not to look around too much or be too surprised. I feel another surprise is looming. Another shock to my system. Another revelation.
When he parks up outside a tower building, I stare at him. “You live here?” I might not know a lot of the upscale places, but who in this city doesn’t know about The Water Tower Building on Michigan Avenue?
“My dad owns a condo here.”
He’s from a rich family?
My knees are like jelly. My insides slowly sliding out of my stomach. I feel weak. As if this is a surreal dream in a surreal world.
“Your dad?” It’s the first time he’s mentioned his family. He nods.
The dominoes are falling and it’s all starting to make sense. But he is normal, I tell myself as we climb out of his battered old Toyota. Grounded. Normal. A guy who’s fighting his rich family’s legacy.
“I can’t believe you live here,” I whisper as we ascend the shiny black marble elevator. It whooshes up, the sound barely discernible. Everything is plush, and fast, and shiny clean.
“I live here.”
He swipes a key card to open the door, pushes it open, and all I see is a vast room, blacks and teals, and copper and gold. It reeks—positively drips—of luxury. Money. Wealth.
He closes the door, and I try to close my mouth, but it has fallen open and I am having difficulty getting my jaw to shut.
Chapter Forty-Four
BRANDON
I can’t tell if she looks enraptured or disappointed—that I live in a place like this. I also can’t figure out if the shock is from her seeing me in a new light, or if it’s the sheer shock of seeing this place.
The Water Tower Building does that to people.
“You kept this quiet,” she says, her guarded eyes assessing me carefully. I don't know where to look, or what to say. What can I say in my defence? I don't have a defence.
She walks in, her eyes darting around the limestone floors and the crisp, contemporary lines of all the decor. She walks around slowly, then glances out of the floor-to-ceiling windows, her jaw slowly sliding open as she takes in the views of the skyline and the navy pier.
For a man who has no problems negotiating or addressing a group of investors, for a man who is full of confidence, I am scared to admit what a nasty excuse of a human being I am.
She stops to admire a million dollar painting on the wall. Something I bought from Jessica. Crazy really, for